Buisness of Misery
by guiltshow
Summary: High class Hinata Hyuuga has been forced to go private school, rather than staying in her lovely estate being homeschooled. Unfortunately, she's awfully unlucky. Will she die in the struggle to remain unscatched by high school? Hinatax?
1. Ethiopia or Bust

She was done.

She had it. And then she lost it.

Only her, careless extraordinare, could happen to lose her socks the night before her first day of school or what she liked to call: **Pathetic Attempt From Father For Me To Have A Social Life Take Four**.

Scrunching up her nose, she looked in the mirror. She wasn't horribly unattractive. Just a bit homely, unlike her mother who had been well-known for her simplistic beauty. The gene pool wasn't on her side; she had obtained her mother's soft face, dainty feet and hands – All well and great. But she achieved her father's ghastly pale pigment or lack there off. Her complexion wasn't as smooth, and her hips were wider due to her father's strong, manly self.

_'Wide hips are good for bearing children, dear,_' her nanny had told her after she had her midlife crisis at the age of thirteen. This didn't help much, albeit it was a nice try. Of course, all young daughters would love to go to their father for encouragement and love; her father told her he would schedule her in sometime next week.

It has been a year since they last had a heart to heart.

Not that she was complaining. She enjoyed her solitude. Her younger sister was giving her father a run for his money, and he had no time to pry into his eldest daughter's life – again in this case, or lack there of.

"Until now, conveniently," she mumbled, carelessly tossing a shoe into a pile of other shoes. All brown or black designer labels with nothing but the word 'neutral' screaming from the mountain of shoes. Lifting up a pair of Jimmy Choo black, silk ballet flats, she believed these would be the most accepting out of the mound. Placing them next to her green plaid skirt, she sighed. She looked ghastly in green. She let the short-sleeved, button up shirt hang on so a maid could iron it for tomorrow, she let the short tie of the same green lay beside it.

Everything was almost in order. Almost.

"Where are those socks?" Her voice was soft, just like the rest of her. For the life of her, she couldn't raise her voice. She had a quiet, demure to her. Shouting was like talking in a normal level of sound. She let the glasses on her face slide down the bridge of her nose. Pushing up the silver wire frames, she plopped down on her 400 hundred count bed sheets, long black hair splashing on the sheets of white. Letting her eyes open, she sighed. "I hate private school education."

Home schooling was the best way to go, she believed. Less stress than what she was feeling right now. Public school was out of the question, due to her father being an "important man". Private school was so it would surely cure this 'socio phobia' her father's psychiatrist had claimed upon her soul. Talk about a death sentence.

Opening her journal(for diary was too unrealistic for her tastes) to a fresh page, she began to write:

The Pros and Cons of Private School

**Pros:****  
**Obviously None.

**Cons:**  
Stuck up rich kids

Peer Pressure

Tacky uniforms

Those damn socks

She sighed, not nearly content with her lists. There were millions upon millions of reasons why private school was wrong for her. The words were just not coming out of her ball-point pen. Frustrated she slammed the journal tightly together, so the pages smoothed together. There was no happenstance from going to school. She liked her privacy. She liked her Prada, Gucci, and other home-made skirts, tops, and bags from penniless countries like Guatemala and Peru. She hated talking to people. She wasn't a people-person. Was that so wrong? She had a hard time enough with girls teasing her because of her awkward shape, and because she wasn't a sick, sized 2. Her opaque eyes, a trait passed from generation to generation, caused her to hear the most idiotic blind jokes a sane person can stomach.

This school wasn't going to be much different.

She picked up the brochure that her father had conveniently kept placing on her dresser.

_'Konoha Academy for the Gifted'_

_A place for talented students to collaborate together on a social level and educational level. Many different resources for the young mind...blah,blah, blah.'_

She wouldn't be surprised if her first day would hearing about whose "daddy" had more money in the bank. Or whose trust fund would be larger(which meant more money for alcohol come those endearing college years).

Contemplating the action of moving to Africa and stay with Ethiopian children, she wondered if she could just do that.

Surely, Ethiopian children would die to have some company from an heiress who just wanted some friends.

"I could go back to my motherland." She deadpanned as she looked at her bed. To the corner were knee-high socks. "Agh!" Her cry couldn't be heard, but the loud thumping on the wall could be.

Surely, Ethiopian children could deal with a spoiled, homely, lack of vision, loner. Surely.

Having everything laid out for the exciting day, she let herself fall into a unsettling slumber filled with emaciated, African children and her Coach purse coming alive to kill her soul.

* * *

The day was bright, the birds were chirping, and she found it most _annoying_. She got ready, brushed her teeth, and put her hair up in a proper bun. Slipping into her adored flats, she grabbed her Chanel tote and beelined to the door. Ignoring the calls from her maid to have a wonderful day, she climbed into her car quite carelessly. 

Her iPod was out and ready for the action of the ten minute drive to school. She turned on the lovely Sufjan and glided out the driveway, headed towards her new place of torture, rivaling with the Spanish Inquisition.

Arriving a bit early, she found the closest parking spot she could. Taking no time to stop and smell any infectious plants that may have been imported from South America, she brushed passed the crowding student body and found herself lost in the midst of a large, grandeur hallway. Sighing, she shook her head, and looked around hopelessly for some help. There were two girls giggling, one a tall blonde and the other a short, pink haired female. She was going to walk towards them when a teacher ushered her along.

"Oh, Hyuuga-sama. I'm so pleasured to have you gracing Konoha Academy. We are looking so forward to...blah. Blah. Blahing blah, blah blah." She stared straight ahead, being guided like a lost sheep to the headmaster's office. "Is that fine, Hyuuga-sama?"

'Shit.'

The young girl just nodded to make the eccentric helper happy. She reached the office and was suddenly jerked before she could go in.

"Hyuuga-sama, I already told you Tsunade-sama was out for her morning outing," the dark haired woman clacked her heels across the floor and handed her a schedule. "You said that you would be fine with just going into your classes without the proper introduction." She smiled and nodded her head at the Hyuuga as pale eyes weakened slightly. Pushing up her glasses, she was again ushered around not knowing where she was.

Arriving to classroom, she took a deep breath; not wanting to go in any further.

Too late.

"Class, this is Hyuuga Hinata. She will be your new student, so please make this educational adventure happy for the heiress of a multi billion dollar company."

Hinata whipped her head around. What did she just say? Was it proper to tell new students how much your dear papa makes in a year? What was this school on?

She took her seat next to a sleeping male and a brooding male. She relaxed; at least they weren't male. Wait...what? She whipped her head to do a double take.

"Oh kami..." she mumbled sinking down lower into her chair. 'Why is the chair as far as I can go?'

Questions upon questions entered Hinata's mind; sadly, none of them had an answer.

"Could this day get any worse?" She blinked in surprise for the man to her right was staring at her with a malicious look upon his face. He looked angry but very, very handsome.

"Um...par-pardon?" Her voice squeaked quietly as she blinked a few times to let her vision go back from it's euphoric state.

"You." His eyes, charcoal black, narrowed in a glare at her. "Don't speak to me; Don't look at me; Don't write stupid confessions to me. Got it?"

She almost let her jaw drop. 'You got to be kidding me!' She nodded quietly and turned about face. Just then she felt her arm become slightly wet. To her left was sure enough the other male, only drooling quite profusely. It began to pool around her arm. 'Oh _kami_...'

Notes for First Period:

Buy tissues to wipe up excess saliva rather than use Hermes scarf

Don't talk/breathe/blink around the handsome piece of cake of a man

(Though she couldn't even if she wanted to)

Buy a one way ticket to Ethiopia immediately

Get the hell out of here

* * *

**A/N** – Well, I'm done with the first chapter. Yay. Just a small project I'm doing. If interested in hearing more about Hinata's high school life, review, review, review! 

And I promise it won't be another unoriginal HS life drama...thing. It will have depth! It will just take some time.

Standard Disclaimer: I don't own and never will. This is the first and last time I will mention it. Thank you.


	2. Exactly This

The first day of the rest of my life had ended with the abrupt ringing of bells in my ears. My mind subconsciously was shutting down from a major overload. I knew education was a drag, but I had never dreamed of what this could have amounted to. Not only was I harassed, but I had been shot the death glare just a few times.

Was it really my fault that I had to sit by the jerk known as "Sasuke-kun"? How was I supposed to know that he was the most desired testosterone filled male here? Oh Kami. I need some friends.

Or drugs.

Drugs would most likely be cheaper.

Instead I sat in my car, letting my cheap thrill of obscure indie rock through my ears. Suddenly, there was a knock on my window. The one who had drooled all over my papers, had used my alpaca scarf as a pillow, and had used my pen to finish a test that he barely glanced over and more than likely failed it, was tapping, TAPPING, on my window. Reluctantly, I roll down the window with a sigh, secretly pondering where I had kept my mace.

Was it in the glove compartment or underneath the seat?

The parking lot cleared, as I diverted my attention from him, and in a spilt second I turned my face back to him, and the temperature rose about 10.7 degrees in my body. Exactly.

There stood the mighty slacker in his geeky (but savory) glory. He was about a head and a half taller than me. His shirt tail was tucked halfway in, and his tie was undone and hung carelessly around his neck; as carelessly as his shirt was unbuttoned; as carelessly as my face turned red; as carelessly as I forgot to take a look at him when he was actually half coherent in class.

Black hair was tied into a ponytail, his hair sticking up in the back quite choppy. His coal eyes lingered on mine, looking through black wire frames. He scratched the back of his pierced ear and scowled.

"Troublesome…" he sighed as he kicked the dirt below us.

"Pardon me?" I squeaked, thoroughly peeved that he called me troublesome. I couldn't say anything though. I wasn't assertive. Instead, my well-manicured toe nails tapped nervously on the brake as I stared with utter confusion at his furrowed brows.

"Not you." He stated quickly and diligently. He looked as uncomfortable as I was. "I missed the bus, and I need a ride home. And since you seem like the most…um…how can I put this delicately…un-troublesome girl I've met in a while because your lack of speaking, I was wondering if you could save me from walking approximately 9 kilometers in the south east direction?"

That was the most I've ever heard him speak. It seemed it was equivalent to a castration on the pain scale for him as he looked up at the sky. He kept one hand in his pocket, fingering something that I wasn't sure of. It seemed square and far from a switch-blade.

Having time to kill, I nodded with little – no, wait – no words said. He seemed relieved when he went around to the door and sat in passenger seat. He waited for me to start the engine and pull out smoothly before he relaxed and put his seat belt on. We drove in silence while he fidgeted with fervor.

"Um…are you alright?" I asked quietly, keeping my eyes on the road.

"No." He said sternly, before hesitantly added. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"A cigarette?"

"No. Weed."

My arms tensed as I squeaked with surprise.

"Geez. It was a joke. Yes, a cigarette. I'm not a drug addict. That's a waste of time and effort."

"I guess."

He rolled down the window for my sake, and lit a cigarette skillfully, and popped the ash tray out as if it was clockwork.

He sighed and smiled with a joy on a much rather blank face.

"Thanks."

"No-no problem."

"The name is Nara Shikamaru."

"Oh. It's nice to meet you. I'm Hyuga Hinata."

"So…um, do you usually allow strangers into your car, or is it a once in a lifetime thing?"

I laughed softly and shrug.

"O-O-Occasionally. You caught me on a good day."

He let out a hum as if he knew the song that was playing on my stereo lightly in the background. Realizing the absurdity that I was in the car with a guy I hardly knew at all, asking a yes or no question couldn't hurt.

"You-you listen to Sufjan Stevens?"

"Yeah. Usually, American music is too troublesome for my taste, but he's an exception."

"Wow. No one I've met has liked him."

"That's because most people enjoy indulging themselves in meaningless rap and stuff like that."

I nod my head vigorously as I turned when he told me to. In no time we came upon a housing complex, and he pointed to the right stairwell. I was surprised that I could talk to him sometimes easily, though other times I had no idea what he was talking about it.

He got out of the car, waving with nonchalance.

I went home in confusion. My face had turned back to its pasty complexion, though I still looked a little flustered. I got out and grabbed my bag before getting out of my car.

He was quite the person.

I walk in the door and my father was staring at me with a tyrannical glare worthy of a kind.

"Hello, father." I bow and peer through heavy bangs.

"Hinata, you are late. I schedule an appointment with you, and you are half an hour late. Care to explain yourself?"

"Ah, father. I had a club after school. It was necessary that I join it today or else I wouldn't have time to be in the picture for the year book. Gomen."

He mumbled and walked forward.

"Hinata. You smell like smoke." Raising a terrible brow in my general direction, I laugh uncomfortably.

"Father, unfortunately I can't handle m-my classmates' addictions."

"You make sure that you do not get involved with this kind of foolery; the future heiress of Hyuga Corporations can not die of tar lung at the weak age of 25. No daughter of mine will become a whore on the south side of the city just so she can make spare change for her unsettling drug addictions and then die of STDs and cancer."

"Yes. I understand, father." My head just shook as I saw his retreating backside. I wonder if I would see him see again at Christmas this year.

One can only hope in these situations.

After a brief dinner and daily nod to my sister Hanabi who showed me her new piercing in the most awkward of places, I went to my room. I tossed off my uniform and got into my silk pajamas in time for my 9:45 bed time.

Opening my guilty pleasure of a romance novel, I dive into a realm quite the opposite of my own.

Commercial fiction truly gave me a thrill. It was as if it could be so easy to run into your best friend of the past and fall in love instantly.

In that moment I thought of Naruto-kun, and my gentle smile turned into a frown. A first love was always hard to get over and forget. But I guess these novels were my emotional crutch; to replace the heroine with me and the prince in disguise as the pauper as Naruto.

I forgot about the angry heart-throb Sasuke, and about the lazy Shikamaru, and I went to sleep dreaming about the only man I would probably love for life.

It was just a bit alarming to wake up in the middle of that night realizing that both of them were in my dream, saving me from a dragon with crystal blue eyes.

A/N - I really need news because as much as I enjoyed finishing this chapter but I don't know if you as the reader enoys this. So tell me. Feedback, good or bad, is good.


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